


Earworm - 221B Drabble

by HiddenLacuna



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: I'm Sorry, M/M, don't hate me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-01
Updated: 2012-07-01
Packaged: 2017-11-08 23:09:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/448587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenLacuna/pseuds/HiddenLacuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Challenged Moonblossom to a 221B Drabble duel. <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/270813/chapters/768306">(Here's hers. She's a lot kinder than I am.)</a> Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote>





	Earworm - 221B Drabble

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moonblossom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonblossom/gifts).
  * Inspired by [221B Drabbles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/270813) by [moonblossom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonblossom/pseuds/moonblossom). 



> Challenged Moonblossom to a 221B Drabble duel. [(Here's hers. She's a lot kinder than I am.)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/270813/chapters/768306) Enjoy!

“Tonight? Can I see him tonight?” John pressed, and the nurse nodded, tiredly. He signed in, emptying his pocket contents into a tray. She led him down a bright and sterile hallway, past many identical tiny-windowed heavy doors, and paused at one halfway down. _S. Holmes_ , declared the whiteboard bolted to the wall. _Psychosis_.

“You’ll want to be careful,” she warned. “He’s unpredictable. Keep your distance.” 

_If I could, I wouldn’t be here_ , John thought wryly, but bobbed his head in curt agreement. The nurse waved her fob across the electronic lock and put her palm against the knobless door. “Five minutes. Panic button on the wall, there. _Don’t_ upset him further.” She pushed the door open and herded him inside. 

John’s heart cramped. Sherlock was curled in the room’s corner, eyes streaming with slow tears, rocking slowly. 

“Sherlock,” John said, crouching next to him and putting his hand gently to his friend’s pale cheek. Sherlock nestled into it, curling his lip in a snarl. John tensed, but didn’t withdraw. “Come back.”

“Your laptop. John. Internet. Dangerous,” Sherlock managed. “Can’t stop. Repeating. Always. Help me. Stop it. Please.”

“What? What is it?” John asked, concerned. What could have driven this brilliant mind to madness so quickly? 

Sherlock stared without seeing. In a strangled voice, he spat, sang, sobbed, one word: “ _Bananaphone_.”


End file.
